Until Sunrise
by MissEMT
Summary: oneshot. We do not cry because we're weak. We cry because we have been strong for too long.


_A/N _

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_We do not cry because we're weak. We cry because we have been strong for too long._

The invisibility cloak was too small.

Here were two boys – men, some would say in an attempt to see them mature – crouching as they shuffled along the corridor. Their footsteps in sync and their matching grins in place. Once upon a time all four of the friends could fit under the cloak without a struggle. But since their individual growth spurts, they would be so lucky. In fact, between the three who wished to use the cloak tonight, a coin toss was necessary. One stayed behind sulking, while the other two snuck off, blending into the stone-wall backgrounds. Their route was a simple one, one they'd practiced for years before. Same old, same old.

The fourth boy – man, all would say – had waited for their arrival. It was eminent. It was the group's chance for rebellion, something rare since the appointment of one to Head Boy-ship. But it was also an act of friendship. Never would they let their poor Moony lie alone at night in the hospital wing.

Their visit was brief but worthwhile. It left the scarred, almost immobile with pain one smiling into the darkness, and had the two who visited grinning with achievement as they shuffled underneath the too-small invisibility cloak.

Their progress back to the common room was slow. Unable to move their feet at a normal distance in fear of them appearing outside the cloak. One became impatient as they neared the end of their journey. His grin faded with every step. The other refused to become irritated by the situation. It was worth it, after all, just to see Moony's own smile.

With the portrait standing, eventually, before them, the password was spoken into the empty space. The Fat Lady rolled her eyes, having grown used to the possibility of 'no one' seeking entrance for around seven years. The boys clambered through, whipping off the cloak as they went.

"Task complete," said one, his impatience all but gone now that they could walk freely. He clapped his friend on the back. But this boy was unaware of the other's celebration. For he had spotted something else. Someone else.

"James?" this someone called, the voice cracking with post-tears.

He did not react at first. His mouth hung slightly open.

The other, showing his rare sensitivity, nudged his friend forward, grabbed the cloak and took to the dormitories as quietly as he possibly could.

"James?" The voice called again, this time louder.

The boy moved forward.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a whisper.

She was sitting by the fire, on the floor. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed red. Her cheeks were flushed.

"You've been crying," he said dumbly.

She watched as he sat next to her and he watched as she folded herself into him.

Soon her shoulders began to shake against his chest. He could feel her hot, shallow breaths on his throat. He laid his head on hers. His arms tightened around her.

After some time, her shaking turned to sniffing. Her breaths evened out. She lifted her head.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" He lifted a finger to stroke her damp cheek. Wiping away old tears, trying to prevent new ones.

She sighed. "Because I never cry."

"Why is that a call for an apology?"

She shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."

She arranged herself to fit neatly into his lap, her head resting on a broad shoulder. They sat as so, together, for longer than comfortable. Because a need for closeness overrides comfort.

He stroked his hand up and down her back, as did seem natural.

"Will you tell me why you're upset?"

He twisted slightly to be able to see her face. Though still blotchy, there were no more tears. Her eyes were closed.

"Where have you been?"

He chuckled lightly, careful not to throw her off her position.

"Does my question not count?"

"Mine takes priority."

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm the one who's sad right now, I get to make the rules."

He smiled at that. "I'll remember that for when I'm feeling down."

"It doesn't apply to everyone," she said with a smile.

He paused to replace a lock of her hair that had fallen astray. Tucking it neatly behind her ear, he said: "We were visiting Remus."

"Ah." She nodded against his shoulder. "Of course you were."

Her eyes still remained closed as she spoke. "And how is he?"

"Getting along fine. Should be out tomorrow evening."

"Good." She smiled.

It was well past midnight yet the fire behind them was still going strong. The spitting embers were the only sound in the room.

"Were you waiting for me?"

She lifted her head at that to look him in the eye. Her lips were stretched into a smile.

"What about your other question?"

"I've got two now."

"How do I know which one to answer first?"

"That's the fun of having two questions; you get to decide." He flashed a crooked grin at her, his signature smile. The one many girls fell victim to over the years. Including the one sat before him.

"Ok," she said slowly. "Well, yes I was waiting for you. I wanted to be with you."

"Not talk to me? About why you're upset?"

She shrugged. "That could come into it. But I wanted to be with you."

Their eyes met.

Without looking away, she said: "It happened again."

His face dropped. The corner of his lips lowered and his eyebrows scrunched together. He knew that was likely the reason for her crying, but he didn't want to believe it.

"Who?" he said darkly.

"Sev and that lot."

He turned his head so violently that his neck creaked. "Snape. Again. It's always him."

"Not him directly. More his friends."

"Don't stick up for him, Lily. He's not your friend anymore, you don't need to do that." His voice was fierce. His eyes were flashing.

"I'm not sticking up for him..."

"You are. If he's tormenting you, it has to stop. This has happened too many times now."

"I know." Her voice cracked. Tears were pooling in her eyes.

This softened him.

He pulled her gently forwards and let her fall into his chest once again.

"This has to stop, Lily," he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head. "No. No, no. I won't let you go to Dumbledore. They'll find out, James. And then what? They'll know I ran for safety, they'll know they got to me! That's what they want!" Her voice rose as she spoke, sounding more manic than she had all night.

"But he'll put an end to this. They won't say another thing to you again-"

"I don't care about being called Mudblood anymore. I don't care."

"They won't hurt you again."

"They never hurt me."

He lifted her head with one finger. Her eyes were glistening and her cheeks were stained with fresh trails. "Really?" he asked softly.

She yanked herself free, refusing to look at him.

"Ok, fine. But this is the first time. I never cry."

"I know you don't. But getting hurt doesn't automatically link with crying. They can exist separately." His voice was low. "Lily. You know and I know that this is not the first time they've upset you. You're strong, there's no doubt about it. That's why you've only let it show now." He moved around her to look in her eyes. She avoided his gaze. "But they hurt you. All the time."

She was looking into the fire. Not caring that the light was burning her eyes, not caring that the heat was becoming too much.

He was right.

"When I first met him, I never thought he'd be like this," was all she could say. It had been playing her mind for months, maybe even years.

"Which is why he doesn't deserve your company. He deserves none of you. You're too good for him."

"I didn't used to be."

"Wrong. You've always been."

She looked at him then. Straight in the eye.

"I don't know what hurts more. The fact that they call me those names and try to corner me in corridors. Or that he's one of them."

He had nothing to say to that. Nothing at all.

So he did what any boyfriend would do in such a situation. What anyone who was completely and utterly, head-over heels in love would do. He held her. He held her until her tears dried and her shaking stopped.

It was well past sunrise.


End file.
